


The Terrible Talent Show

by Alice_Writes_Stuff



Series: Stain'd Girls (Derry Girls AU) [3]
Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events (TV), A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket, All the Wrong Questions - Lemony Snicket
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Based on the series one finale, Derry Girls AU, Gen, Isadora is a lesbian, Multi, Not as funny or chaotic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:48:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24416896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alice_Writes_Stuff/pseuds/Alice_Writes_Stuff
Summary: When Violet becomes the editor of the Prufrock Press, the school newspaper, she goes into the job with all guns blazing- and absolutely no idea what she's doing. Until, that is, an anonymous essay gives her an idea- and causes problems for the group. Meanwhile, a missing docket causes another set of problems for Lemony, Beatrice, Bertrand and Theodora...
Relationships: Beatrice Baudelaire/Bertrand Baudelaire/Lemony Snicket
Series: Stain'd Girls (Derry Girls AU) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1832224
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	The Terrible Talent Show

The Terrible Talent Show

“Are you absolutely sure you haven’t missed anything?” Beatrice asked her partner. Bertrand shook his head.

“I’m telling you, Bea, I’ve looked everywhere, there’s no more darks!” He sighed. “You’ve got a half load there, why don’t you just stick that in?”

“I can’t do that! A half load goes against everything I stand for, Bert, you know that!”

“Maybe you should ask my mother, then, see if she’s got anything.” Like she’d been summoned from the blue, Theodora and her hair- an enormous grey mane that seemed to have a mind of its own sometimes- came into the kitchen.

“What is it you’re after, Beatrice?” she asked. She was always quite civil to Beatrice and Bertrand- less so with Lemony, though nobody was exactly sure why.

“You haven’t got any darks that need washing, do you?” Theodora shook her head, sending her hair flying all over the place.

“Just stick on a half load and be done with it!”

“That’s what I told her, Mother- apparently it goes against everything she stands for.”

Finally, Lemony- Beatrice’s other partner, and the father of her eldest child- came into the kitchen. He had something in his hand, though it was too small for Beatrice to see what it was from where she stood.

“I found something!” he announced, holding up a single pair of dark socks. Beatrice sighed, but added them to her basket anyway. “Right, we’d better get going, Theodora,” he said.

“Alright- although I don’t see why you have to take me for the weekly shop, Lemony. I can drive myself.”

“Well, technically you can’t, Mother,” Bertrand pointed out. “You’ve been suspended, remember?”

“What did you do this time, Theodora?” Beatrice asked.

“Absolutely nothing- it’s ageist discrimination, that’s what it is! All I did was get too old.” With that, she stalked away.

“Ageist discrimination,” Lemony said, looking over his shoulder to check she wasn’t listening. “A phrase which here means, getting caught breaking the speed limit for the fifth time this month.”

“Will you stop defining phrases and get moving, Lemony?” Theodora called from the doorway. Lemony rolled his eyes, before following her out of the door.

Shortly after they left, there was a knock at the door. Beatrice went to answer it, and found Fernald Widdershins standing in the doorway.

“Hello, Beatrice,” he said. “You haven’t seen Fiona, have you?”

“No- but I’m sure that lot’ll be back any minute now. You’re welcome to come in and wait for her- I’ll pop the kettle on.”

“That’d be great, thanks, Beatrice.” She stepped aside and let him in.

By now, she was used to the way that Violet and Klaus, and their friend group, tended to congregate here after school most days. She had also gotten to be on friendly terms with their various parents and guardians- not just Fernald, but Maria and Quentin Quagmire, and more recently Brandon Spats- and thought nothing of inviting them in for a cup of tea or coffee.

“Could I ask a favour, Fernald?” Beatrice asked, once the kettle was filled up and the water was boiling. Bertrand shot her a warning frown, but she ignored him. “I’m trying to put on a full load, but we’re all out of darks. I couldn’t borrow your jacket, could I, to bulk the load up a bit?”

“No, you can’t- I just washed it the other day, and besides, you might mess the leather up if you’re not careful about it.”

Before Beatrice could reassure him that wouldn’t be a problem, the door swung open, and Violet, Klaus, Isadora, Fiona and Carmelita came traipsing into the house. Beatrice noticed their dark maroon blazers and dark grey school skirts and trousers, and realised she had a solution to her laundry problems standing right in front of her.

* * *

Violet’s mother had apparently been struggling to put together a full load for the washing machine when they’d come in from school- though once most of their uniforms had been added to the mix and they’d gotten changed, she seemed content to fill up the machine, and set the five of them to washing the dishes while they waited for the cycle to finish.

“Let me see that,” she said, after Klaus had finished drying one of the plates. “And is that supposed to pass for a clean plate?”

“Don’t look at me- Fiona was the one who cleaned it!”

Fiona sighed, and threw down the towel she was holding. “Okay, that is _it,_ Klaus. I have had more than enough with your nitpicking, I won’t take any more of it, is that clear?”

Violet blinked at her, pausing in her own washing. “Is everything okay, Fiona?”

“See, I thought this might happen,” Fernald said, frowning at his sister. “You’re putting yourself under far too much pressure, Fiona- it’s not healthy.”

“I know- I can’t fail, though, I just can’t.”

Violet frowned at her. “Since when have you had to worry about exams?”

“What are you talking about, Violet?” she asked, frowning too.

“What are _you_ talking about, Fiona?”

“Step,” she replied, which didn’t make things any clearer.

“Step?”

“Step aerobics,” she clarified.

“Fiona’s gotten really into step aerobics lately. Her instructor says she’s a natural- that she has what it takes to go all the way,” Fernald elaborated.

“All the way in… step aerobics?” Mum asked, sounding just as confused as Violet had been.

“Yeah- but it’s getting out of hand, Beatrice. She’s stepping all the time, morning, noon and night. Apart from anything else, it’s dangerous. She nearly came through the ceiling this morning. I mean, she may be talented, I’m not saying she isn’t- but I just want her to have a normal childhood.”

“I won’t give it up, Fernald- I can’t.”

“Will you listen to yourself, Fiona?” Just then, the washing machine beeped, the load done.

“Now, we just need to do the whites,” she said, which Violet and her friends took as their cue to go upstairs and fetch the rest of their uniforms.

* * *

Lemony looked down at his list. He’d decided to run a few errands while Theodora did the big weekly shop, and he only had one left to do- collecting the photos from Beatrice’s birthday party from the photo shop.

He was waiting for the man behind the counter to return with the photos when Theodora came in, pushing a trolley full of groceries.

“What are you doing here? Meeting your fancy woman on the side, are you?” Lemony frowned.

“No, I’m collecting the photos from Beatrice’s party. And honestly, if I was having an illicit rendezvous with my mistress, then I don’t think I would do it in the supermarket where my former foster mother happens to be doing the weekly shop. Funnily enough, that doesn’t seem like the best place somehow.”

“Snicket, was it?” the cashier said, cutting short their discussion.

“Yes, that’s me,” Lemony replied.

“I see. Now, did you remember to bring your wee docket?” Lemony nodded, looking through his wallet. “It’s a red slip of paper, not too big, with blue letters- navy blue, I think, not a royal blue. Times New Roman, I believe the font is.”

“I know what it looks like.” There was no sign of it in his wallet, though. “Um, do you absolutely need it?”

“Yes, I do- it’s proof of ID.”

“But my surname is right there on the folder.”

“How do I know that’s your surname, though?” the cashier asked, frowning down at the envelope.

“Do you know a lot of other people with the last name Snicket?” Lemony asked. His name wasn’t exactly common.

“You could be making that name up- lying to try and get someone else’s pictures.”

“Why would I do that? In fact, why would _anyone_ do something like that?”

“They could be a stalker, maybe. You can’t rule anything out, you know!”

“Look, why don’t you just take a look at some of those photos, and you’ll see that they’re mine.”

“Or you could just go home, and have another look for your docket.” Lemony shook his head, and opened up the folder. The first photo was of him and Violet, smiling and wearing purple party hats.

“Look, that girl is my daughter, Violet.” The cashier frowned down at the picture.

“And how do I know she’s your daughter?”

“Because I’m standing right next to her!” Lemony replied, getting exasperated now. The cashier examined the photo a little more closely.

“I suppose you _do_ look a bit like this man.” Lemony wanted to throw something.

“I _am_ this man! My name is Lemony Snicket. This woman is my mother-in-law, S. Theodora Markson, she can vouch for me.”

“What does the S stand for?” The cashier asked.

“Sorry, but I have never seen this man before in my life.”

“No docket, no photographs, end of,” the cashier said with an air of finality.

* * *

Violet wasn’t sure what she’d expected when she had started helping out at the school newspaper, the Prufrock Press. She wasn’t much of a writer, not like Duncan or Isadora, and she’d never had much of an interest in journalism. But she had wanted to do something different, step out of her comfort zone a little- besides, her father was a writer, and her uncle had worked for the Daily Punctillio for a few years. She might have inherited their talents.

Not that she got many opportunities to write anything, of course. Most of her work so far involved making photocopies and endless cups of tea for the other reporters. It was fine, though, she got it. She was the newest member of the team, she’d have to work her way up. Of course, it didn’t help that Esmé Squalor practically ran the newspaper, and wouldn’t let any articles through that she didn’t approve of.

“Alright, everyone, remember that entries for our “searching for myself” writing competition are to be placed in this box,” Esmé said, holding a brightly decorated box in her perfectly manicured hands. “If you could all spread the word around, that would be smashing!”

“I’ll smash you alright,” Violet muttered under her breath. At that moment, Vice Principal Nero came into the newspaper office.

“Alright, girls, can I have your attention?” he asked.

Violet had a feeling that she knew what this was about. Geraldine Julienne, the Prufrock Press’s official editor, had been off sick for the last couple of weeks, and nobody knew if or when she was due to return. It hadn’t been clear what was going to happen to this issue of the paper, but they had all continued working, in the hopes that Geraldine would be back before it was due to print.

“So, I’ve just got off the phone with Geraldine’s mother- and it’s not looking great. It seems unlikely that Geraldine will be back before the end of the school year. Which means there’s only one thing we can do- we have to decide who will fill in for her as the editor of the paper.”

“Actually, Vice Principal Nero,” Esmé began, “we’ve already been discussing this eventuality. And to be honest, none of us really feel comfortable stepping into Geraldine’s shoes- it just seems a bit disrespectful, given the circumstances. In fact, we think this issue should be cancelled.”

“Very well, then,” Nero replied. Violet noticed that he hadn’t mimicked Esmé's words, the way he usually would with other students. “If nobody’s willing, then that settles it.”

“I’ll do it,” Violet said, before she could think better of it. “I’ll step up, I’ll be the editor.” The other reporters glared at her.

“Excuse me?” Esmé asked. “You can’t do that- we’re making a statement here, you’re ruining our statement!”

“Look, I know that Geraldine meant a lot to you all-”

“She’s not _dead,_ Violet!” Esmé interrupted.

“Well, not right now, obviously, but regardless, the show must go on- isn’t that right, Vice Principal Nero?”

“You terrify me,” the vice-principal replied, looking genuinely unnerved by Violet’s attitude.

“You can’t be the editor, Violet,” Esmé protested. “You’ve never even written an article!”

“That’s because I can’t get anything past Rupert Murdoch over here!” Violet replied, pointing at Esmé.

“You can’t let this happen, Vice Principal! It’s not fair!”

“ _You can’t let this happen, Vice Principal, it’s not fair!_ I know- but I’m bored now, so it looks like I probably will. Best of luck, all of you.” And with that, he left.

* * *

Meanwhile, back at the Baudelaire house, Beatrice and Bertrand were less than impressed by Lemony’s failure to fetch the photos back.

“How could you lose the docket, Lem?” Beatrice asked.

“Yeah- everyone knows you have to hang on to the little docket!” Bert added.

“Look, I’ve said I’m sorry- how often will I need to keep saying it?”

“Those were my birthday photos, Lem!” Beatrice protested. “You’re only thirty-three once!”

“To be fair, you’ve turned thirty-three a few times now, Bea,” Lemony pointed out.

“Don’t you _Bea_ me- you’ve got a bit of nerve given the circumstances!”

“It’s not too late to dump him,” Theodora chipped in. “I’ve always said you’re both too good for him.”

“Mother!” Bertrand exclaimed. “You can’t suggest we break up with Lemony every time he forgets to do something!”

“Sure I can!” Theodora replied. “Or you could at least let me hit him, just this once!”

“Theodora, _no!”_ Beatrice snapped. “Honestly, it’s bad enough that this has happened- we don’t need to make matters worse by resorting to violence. I mean, I’m still disappointed- I lost half a stone so I could fit into my dress for that party, and now I’ve not got so much as a photo to look back on.”

“How do you think I feel? That packet contained one of the few recent pictures I’ve got of me, Jacques and Kit all together- and now it’s gone.” He sighed. “Look, we can’t keep arguing about this all day. The docket’s gone, we might as well just move on.”

“And you might as well just move out,” Theodora added. Just then, Violet came into the kitchen.

“Guess who’s just been made editor of the school magazine?” she asked, seemingly oblivious to the argument her parents and grandmother had been engaged in. “Me! Can you believe that?”

“That’s great, Vi,” Lemony told her. “Isn’t that great, everyone?” He was interrupted by a beeping noise from the washing machine.

“That’s the whites done,” Beatrice said, going over to the machine and starting to empty it. She had just pulled out a couple of the children’s school shirts when she spoke again. “Guys, I think I know what happened to the docket.” She stood up, showing all of them a tiny, crumpled and torn slip of red paper.

* * *

The next day, Violet walked into Prufrock Prep, with her blouse dyed slightly pink and her head full of ideas for the school magazine. She pushed open the door to the Prufrock Press office, ready to get started- only to find an empty room. Well, not completely empty. Esmé's friend Millie was still there, looking through a box.

“Where is everyone?” Violet asked.

“They all quit,” Millie said.

“They… what?”

“Yeah. They all thought that what you did yesterday was pretty out of order.”

“Right.”

“And that you’re a bit cold, and ruthless- and, honestly, nobody really has any respect for you.”

“Yes, well, thank you for being honest. Still, I’m glad you’re here, Millie. I mean, it’s not gonna be easy with just two of us, but I’m sure we can make it work.”

“Yeah- I only came back to get my inhaler,” Millie said, pulling out the small, blue object and walking out of the office.

“Fine then,” Violet snapped. “Puff off. I don't need you. I don't need any of you. I've got my own people, and we'll show you up for the amateurs that you are. My people are shit hot! Do you hear me? Shit hot!”

She asked Duncan first- she knew he’d be the easiest person to convince. In fact, she didn’t even need to convince him.

“Of course I wanna work at the Prufrock Press! I mean, I’d have signed up ages ago, but Esme scares me. Now she’s out the picture, though, I’ll gladly help. Moxie Mallahan got started in journalism by working at Prufrock Press, and-”

“Great, thanks!” Violet said. She still had to ask Isadora, Klaus, Fiona and Carm, and didn’t really have time to listen to Duncan go on about Moxie Mallahan, his journalist hero.

Persuading her friends to help her out was easy enough. But as Violet soon realised, agreeing to make a newspaper together was a lot harder than it looked.

“Right,” Klaus muttered. “How do I start a new line again?”

“Press the return key,” Carm said, sounding fed up already. Isadora groaned in frustration, and gave the printer a kick.

“Could you be quiet over there, Izzie? I’m trying to get my creative juices flowing,” Violet said.

“Please do us all a favour and never say that sentence ever again,” Carmelita replied.

“Okay, this is just wasting time. We need to make a call about our late story, and we’ve gotta do it now,” Violet said, turning to the chalkboard. “Will you stop doing that for five minutes?” she added, glaring at Fiona, who was practising her step aerobics.

“I can’t let my heart rate drop, Violet, I’m sorry.”

“Right. Okay, everyone, gather round. Let’s go over some of our favourite ideas.” The six teens all went to stand in front of the chalkboard, which so far had only two ideas written on it. “So, first off, we have animals.”

“Animals,” Klaus repeated. “Could someone elaborate on that one?”

“Yeah,” Violet replied. “So, this concept would focus on animals, alongside pictures of famous people who look a bit like animals.”

“Michelle Pfeiffer looks like a cat,” Fiona offered.

“Exactly,” Violet replied. “So, our next idea is shoes of the world. And this piece would concentrate on different shoes from around the world, sitting alongside pictures of, you know, different shoes from around the world.” She was truly starting to clutch at straws now, and they all knew it. “Like, you know how, in Russia, everyone wears boots because...”

“Because it’s freezing?” Carm suggested.

“Right, and in India, they wear sandals, because...”  
  
“Because it’s boiling?”

“Exactly,” Violet said. “So, what are we thinking so far?”

“Well, to be honest, they both seem a bit… well, less than great?” Duncan said, trying to sound gentle. Violet stared at the board in horror.  
  
“Oh my God, they’re shit! They’re a complete load of absolute shit! How can we print this absolute shit?”

“Okay,” Klaus said. “Okay, let’s not panic.”

“ _Let’s not panic?”_ Violet snapped. “Look at this, Klaus! I mean, _shoes of the world?_ What does that even mean?!”

“Yeah, this isn’t looking great,” Carm agreed.

“Okay,” Violet said. “Okay, you know what, we can still make this work. We just need to change our approach, that’s all!” She walked over to the box containing the writing competition entries. “There’s gotta be something in here that we can use. We- we can just steal someone’s story and we can use it ourselves!”

“Journalistic integrity at its finest,” Duncan grumbled.

“This stuff is all so cheesy,” Carm said, looking through the entries. “I mean, what kind of prompt is _searching for myself?”_

“Oh, here’s something we can use!” Violet exclaimed. “Suffocation: The Secret Life Of A Gay Teenager.” She checked for a name. “And it’s anonymous, too.” They all looked at Klaus.

“I didn’t write it,” he said.

“No,” Violet said, scanning it. “This looks like it was written by a girl. Which means we’ve got a real-life lesbian, right here at Prufrock!”

“It’s not that big a deal,” Isadora muttered, tugging on the sleeves of her cardigan.

“It is a big deal!” Violet said. “This solves everything! It’s perfect, we can just print this, and-”

“No, we can’t do that, Violet! We could get into trouble!”

“Oh, come on, Isadora. You’re not afraid of a bit of controversy, are you?”

“Yes, yes I am, Violet! What if this goes on our permanent record or something?”

“What’s more important? Your permanent record, or telling this girl’s story?”  
  
“My permanent record!” Isadora snapped, then walked out of the office.

“Fine!” Violet shouted after her. “We can still make sure this issue of the Prufrock Press will go down in history! And it will, mark my words!”

“Okay, you seriously need to calm the fuck down,” Carm said, when it looked like she was quite finished.

* * *

Nero wouldn’t let them publish it. They had printed out a few copies, using up a whole pile of bright pink paper in order to give it the right effect. But judging by the Vice Principal’s reaction, they might as well have not bothered.

“Come on, Vice Principal Nero,” Violet protested.

“I won’t be hearing any arguments,” he said. “If it gets out that I allowed something like this to be circulated, it could mean big trouble.”

“But… it’s 1994, sir, not the Dark Ages!”

“The point still stands, Miss Baudelaire. The Prufrock Press is meant for… safe topics, like shoes and pictures of animals. You should try to stick to things like that.”

“This is more important than any of that!” Violet said. “This is about, you know, gay rights!”

“Right. And I’m guessing that’s why you all decided to come in wearing pink shirts? That’s a serious violation of the uniform code, by the way, but let’s try to take one problem at a time.”

“This isn’t a problem though, sir! This is groundbreaking journalism!”

“ _This isn’t a problem, this is groundbreaking journalism!_ I don’t care what it is, it’s not to be distributed tomorrow, or any day for that matter. Is that understood?”

“But that’s censorship!” Violet protested.

“Yes, that’s correct. You’re being censored. Now, go,” Nero said, dismissing them.

* * *

Theodora straightened out the ruined docket one more time, before walking into the photo shop.

“Hello,” she said to the cashier. There was something slightly different about him this time, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. “I don’t know if you remember me, but I was in here earlier with my son, Lemony Snicket?”

“Sorry, ma’am, I wasn’t here earlier. It must’ve been my brother you were speaking to. Who are you?”

“My name’s S. Theodora Markson,” Theodora replied.

“And what does the S stand for?” the man asked, writing something down.

“Sounds like that’s the wrong question, don’t you agree?” She shook her head. “Now, I would like to collect my daughter-in-law’s birthday photos. I was so preoccupied, earlier, with pissing off Lemony that I lost sight of the bigger picture, that they’re her photos, and she ought to have them. So, if you could just go and grab them for me, that’d be great.” She set down the ruined docket on the counter.

“Mrs Markson, I’m going to be quite frank with you- I can’t accept that.”

“Why not? You- or, more accurately, your brother- asked for the docket, and here it is! Now, let’s try this again,” she said, and slid the docket a little closer. “Where are the photos?”

* * *

“I cannot believe you threatened to punch that cashier if he didn’t give the photos back,” Mum said.

“Well, it worked, didn’t it?” Granny Theodora replied.

“That isn’t the point, Theodora, and you know it!”

“ _I_ can’t believe Vice Principal Nero’s not letting us publish our newspaper, just because the main story’s about a lesbian,” Violet said. “I mean, it’s not fair.”

“If you think about it,” Uncle Bert said, “it shouldn’t really be that controversial. There are quite a lot of lesbians and the like these days, aren’t there? Just the other day, I was talking to Ornette Lost, and apparently she’s got a girlfriend now.”

“Ornette that runs the gift shop, who makes her own origami Bombinating Beasts?” Mum asked.

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

“So, do you think I should make a stand about this newspaper thing?” Violet asked.

“If your vice principal’s saying no...” Mum began.

“Mum, the school’s trying to erase this girl’s experience because she’s gay. What if this was me, or Klaus?”

“Fine, then. Stick up for the wee lesbian, we won’t stop you.”

* * *

The next day, Violet, Klaus, Carmelita and Fiona got off the bus, each armed with a pile of copies of the Prufrock Press. The Quagmires had refused to have anything to do with it- even Duncan had effectively quit now.

“Read all about the mystery lesbian!” Carmelita yelled.

“We will not be censored!” Violet added.

“I support gay people, even though I myself am not actually gay!” Klaus contributed.

Soon, kids all over the school were reading the Prufrock Press. Violet wasn’t sure she’d ever seen an issue of the paper do this well in all her years at the school. She’d expected Nero to do something about it, but so far he didn’t seem to be making any moves to intervene.

“Isn’t this great?” Carm said at morning break. “It’s all anyone’s been talking about! Now everyone’s buzzing to find out who wrote the article in the first place.”

“If she does decide to reveal herself,” Fiona said, glancing up from a flyer for the school talent show, “she’ll basically be a minor celebrity.”

“You’re right,” Carm replied, like the idea was just now dawning on her. “She would be, wouldn’t she?” Then, before anyone could tell her it was probably not a good idea, she made her way up the staircase in the cafeteria. “Right, everyone, listen up!” she said, once she reached the landing. “I just wanted to say that, if you’re looking for the mystery lesbian, then you need look no further, because here she is. I just… I just love women. Can't get enough of the ladies. Big fan of the fandango. Huge. Massive-”

“Yeah, right!” someone called.

“Stop talking rubbish, Spats!” someone else shouted.

“Well, it was worth a try,” Carm said, before coming back down the stairs to join the group.

* * *

Later that day, at lunchtime, Violet decided to go back to the newspaper office. So far, being editor of the school paper was easier than she’d thought it might be- though deep down, she knew that her success so far had been built on pretty awful ground, and that her next issue would have to be better than this one.

She’d tied her hair up with her ribbon and was about to start plotting ideas for the next issue when Isadora came into the office.

“Hi,” she said.

“What do you want?” Violet asked. She wondered what Isadora was doing here, and if this meant she was ready to help them out now.

“I wanted to talk to you. I mean, I should’ve done it sooner, but, I don’t know, this whole thing has been making me really nervous.”

“Doesn’t everything make you really nervous?”

“Well yes, but that’s not the point.”

“Have you heard what Carm’s been saying? She tried to claim that she was the one who wrote the article, that she’s the mystery lesbian.” She shrugged. “I mean, not that anyone believes her, of course. Honestly, I’d be more inclined to believe it was you who wrote it.”

“It was me who wrote it,” Isadora blurted.

“Yeah, sure it was, Izzie,” Violet replied.

“No, I’m serious. It was me who wrote it. I’m the mystery lesbian.”

“Seriously?” Violet asked. Isadora nodded. “You… you’re a lesbian?”

“Yeah. I mean, I've never actually felt brave enough to say it out loud before, and I think that's why I wrote the story, and then it all got too real, I got too scared, but now, well, you've made me realise it's all okay.”

“I didn’t do anything!” Violet protested. This was all starting to get a bit much. She’d thought that the mystery lesbian was gonna be someone she didn’t know that well. For one of her best friends to come out and admit to being their anonymous writer… that was something she hadn’t considered, and something she wasn’t sure she wanted to deal with.

“What do you mean?” Isadora asked.

“I cannot believe we’re having this conversation,” Violet said. “You’re saying you’ve been into girls this whole time?”

“Well, that is sort of an entry-level requirement, Violet.”

“I _cannot_ believe we’re having this conversation,” she repeated.

“Do you mind? I’m trying to come out here!”

“Well, do you have to do it right now?”

“Well, I’d do it in front of the school, but it looks like you guys took care of that one for me.” She shook her head. “You know, I really thought you’d be okay with this. I thought, of all the people in this school, you’d be someone I could feel safe saying all of this to. But I suppose you’re only fine with people deviating from the straight and narrow when they’re in your own family, right?” And with that, she left the office.

For the rest of the day, Isadora refused to speak to her- even going so far as to move seats when it was time for French class. Which was probably the biggest sign that things were bad, because the girl she’d moved to sit beside was notorious for smelling bad.

After school, Violet ended up walking home with Fiona, who was too hyped about tomorrow’s talent show to want to talk about anything else. Plus, she didn’t really want to go home at the moment. She didn’t really feel brave enough to tell her parents how her “stand” against bigotry had worked out for her.

That did not stop her, however, from telling Fernald what had happened, while he was making everyone a cup of coffee. She hadn’t meant to say anything, of course- normally she’d feel a bit awkward being that open with her friends’ parents and guardians. But it had all sort of come out, even so- everything seemed to be _coming out_ these days.

“...and the thing is, of course, she’s absolutely right. This _shouldn’t_ bother me. I mean, I’ve had three parents my whole life- I really shouldn’t be squicked out by people not being straight. And to tell the truth, I’m really not squicked. The more I’m thinking about it, the more I’m okay with it.”

“So, what was the issue, then?” he asked, setting down a purple mug in front of her.

“I think… it came as a shock. I genuinely hadn’t expected one of my friends to have written the article. To be honest, I really don’t know what I was thinking.” She sighed and took a sip of coffee. “What should I do?”

“Apologise. Wait a day or two, though, to give things a chance to cool off. But don’t leave it too long. And remember that you can’t force someone to forgive you. That’s all you can really do.”

“Thanks,” she said. Then there was a thump, which turned out to be Fiona. She was fine, fortunately- she’d just fallen over while practising her step.

“This is what I get for trying to be supportive,” Fernald muttered. “Right, well, you finish your coffee, I’m gonna phone your parents and tell them you’re here. Go home, get some rest. Things will probably look better tomorrow.”

* * *

Things were not notably better the next day. Isadora was still not talking to Violet, and now neither was Duncan. Klaus was caught awkwardly in the middle, not sure whose side to take. Fiona and Carmelita didn’t seem sure either, but they were at least on speaking terms with Violet- though somehow that just made her feel worse. Violet wasn’t sure if their group had ever been this divided, and she hated it- especially because it was her fault.

The only slight bright spot in the whole day was the talent show- which, honestly, just showed how dire the situation was. The children who weren’t taking part were seated in rows, which were split down the middle by an aisle. Violet, Klaus and Carm sat on one side of the aisle, Isadora and Duncan on the other. As act after act went on to perform, Violet kept glancing over at Isadora, who kept staring resolutely forward.

Finally, there were two acts. Esmé and Millie, performing a cover of The Rose, by Bette Midler, and then it would be Fiona and her step aerobics. Once Esmé and Millie were finished, Vice Principal Nero returned to the stage so that he could announce Fiona’s act.

“You know,” he said. “Every year, I sit backstage at these talent shows, and I listen to these performances. And you know, it really makes me appreciate just how talented… the professionals who originally recorded these tracks were.” He paused. “Right, our final act today is Fiona Widdershins.”

Fiona came onto the stage, her dark hair tied up in a high ponytail instead of its usual braid. She was wearing a loose, bright red jumper with a large mushroom on it, and patterned leggings that did not match the jumper at all, and she was carrying her step aerobics box.

The music began to play- Like a Prayer, by Madonna- Fiona began to perform her step aerobics routine, and the audience began to laugh. Well, most of them, at any rate. Violet wasn’t laughing, and neither was Klaus, or Carmelita.

“What is the matter with her?” whispered one of the younger girls in front of them.

“I don’t know- she’s such a dick though, isn’t she?” replied her friend.

Violet frowned, as she realised what she was doing, again. She was letting Fiona down by doing nothing, just as she’d let Isadora down yesterday. She’d been too afraid then- she was not going to let her fear grip her now.

“Yeah,” she said, tapping the girl’s arm to get her attention. “She might be a dick.” Violet stood up, remembering how much this meant to Fiona, and determined not to let these girls ruin it. “But she’s my dick!” she declared.

“Actually,” came a familiar voice from the other side of the hall. “She’s _our_ dick!” Violet looked over at Isadora, who was smiling at her. She smiled back, and nodded. And when her friend returned the gesture, Violet knew that, despite everything, things were going to be okay.

Together, they made their way up to the stage, bringing Klaus, Carm and Duncan with them. And though Carm grumbled at first, though Fiona was the only one really dressed for the occasion, though their dancing was an odd mix of step, tap and just messing around and being silly, nobody seemed to mind. Even if they did, Violet didn’t care. She was with her friends again, everything was as it should be. Why should it matter what anyone else thought?


End file.
